


Creamy

by Missy



Category: Aladdin (1992)
Genre: Canon Het Relationship, F/M, Food, Honeymoon, Porn Battle, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-02
Updated: 2011-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-15 08:03:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jasmine has a special treat for Aladdin (clichéd porn summary is clichéd).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Creamy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle XI: Prompt: Aladdin, Aladdin/Jasmine, sherbet, honeymoon

“Alone at last!”

Jasmine laughed at the relief in Aladdin’s voice as he finished undressing and flopped onto the pile of pillows beside her. “Thought we’d never get rid of them?” She rolls toward him and rests a hand on his chest.

He smiled at her touch but couldn’t resist complaining. “Before we got married you didn’t tell me how many stuffy dinners we’d have to sit through.”

“Don’t worry, it’s almost over.” He didn’t catch the wicked gleam in her eyes until she rolled over him. “When we get back to Agrabah, there’ll only be one a week.”

He frowned, but quickly added, “at least the palace cook’s good.”

“The best in the desert.” She pointed toward two dishes covered by a white linen cloth sitting on the floor several inches from their pillows. “I have a little surprise for you.” She reached for the cloth and pulled it away, revealing two smaller metal dishes and twin spoons.

He pulled himself up on his elbows, eyes shining with joy. “Wow, mango sherbet!” Years living on the streets half-starved had made Aladdin wholly appreciative of good food, and Jasmine had never forgotten the young ‘street rat’ who had been amazed by the sumptuous banquets she had taken for granted.

“Is it sill your favorite?” He nodded his head as she handed him one of the icy dishes and picked up her own. “I’m glad you haven’t changed.”

Aladdin smiled as he sat up all the way. “You remembered.”

“It’s the solemn duty of the wife of the royal prince to remember what he favors,” she said, mock-submissive, then smiled wickedly and spooned a dollop of it into her mouth. “And it’s my favorite too.”

Aladdin sat still for just a moment, watching her eat, her pink tongue flicking along the cold surface of the spoon. Suddenly, he was caught between the rock that was Jasmine’s teasing mood and the hard place that was the rumble of his stomach, and had no idea which appetite he should satisfy first.

“Go ahead,” she teased, her dark eyes flashing as she ran the rim of the spoon along her bottom lip. He gulped and blinked, a little surprised that she’d noticed his staring.

“But…”

“The sherbet’s going to melt,” she licked the spoon, quick flicks of flesh that reminded him of what she could do him with the smallest bit of effort. “I won’t.”

“I think I might,” he gulped out, and finally took a spoonful of the dessert. The sweet, sharp taste of mango burst upon his tastebuds, making him moan appreciatively. Her smile was instinctively knowing as she watched him eat.

“I’m flattered,” she smiled, elegantly sipping another spoonful down, “but we’re not doing justice to cook’s hard work.”

“What he won’t know won’t hurt him. It’s too hot to eat, anyway.”

Jasmine clearly saw the opening and dove for it. “Should I help you cool off, husband?” She held out a spoonful of her own sherbet, the cool, pale orange treat dripping from the tip of it.

He smiled. “If you’ll let me help you cool off, too.”

Each of them lifted their spoon toward the mouth of their beloved, careful not to spill the slowly liquefying sherbet on their borrowed pillows. Aladdin sucked the mouthful of cool sweetness from the spoon quickly, but Jasmine’s tongue lingered, flicked against the cool metal surface, her eyes burning as she stared into his.

She released the spoon, and he dipped it again into his dish. They each made two successful trips from dish to mouth before she ‘accidentally’ dripped a stream of half-melted sherbet across his chest, “Ooops!” Jasmine cried, then filled the space between them, bowing her head until it was level with his breast. Her slightly-chilled tongue spread gooseflesh over Aladdin’s chest as she cleaned up the spill, then lingered for a moment and flicked her tongue against his nipple.

He gave her a lust-roughened laugh. “I can’t taste as good as the sherbet.”

She sat up, laughing good-naturedly. “You do. A little salty, but I like it.” She sat back, but didn’t remove her hand from his chest. She gave him a hungry look and ran her palms down his bare torso, stopping at the sash that kept his pants on. “I missed you,” she admitted, and he knew the propriety of their time spent in public had been just as frustrating for Jasmine.

“Huh? I was with you today.”

She smiled. “Two inches of space between us is too much, Aladdin.”

That daunting tone of hers always made his heart speed and his cock harden. Shifting in discomfort against the pillows, he cupped her chin, tilted her head upward, then slid his fingers through her long hair, unbinding it. “Jas,” he breathed, and she smiled, the instinctive mou of a woman in love.

She wrapped an arm around his neck, her night billowing in the humid breeze. The kiss was less a willful action for either of them then a slow melting of his body into hers, fingers gentle, careful as they stroked bare arms and backs. They separated dreamily and, without further discussion, set aside the sherbet and started undressing.

Their fingers had more practice than they did on their wedding night, but still shook as they untied knots and push back articles of clothing. His mouth caressed her collarbone and kissed her shoulder as her hair spilled around them both.

She wrapped herself around his neck and reclined, allowing Aladdin to rest on her body. Naked, they kissed and embraced, unhurried, cherishing the moment. Minutes passed before these caresses took on stronger purpose and his touch became more direct, moving to the fullness of her breasts and resting there.

Jasmine arched her neck and kissed his chest, excitement brightening her features. “Yes,” she called, and he lowered his mouth to her chest, licking circles around the mound of each breast before taking as much of the soft flesh of one mound into his mouth as he could manage, running his teeth carefully over each nub. He glanced up to see her sprawled before him, her eyes squeezed shut and her hands bunching the pillows into multicolored bundles. In that moment, he couldn’t believe how beautiful she was, that they had years to explore one another. Then he lowered his head and continued making a proper tribute to her feistiness, her beauty. He rubbed his face against her breasts and tried to restrain himself.

Within minutes, that need had dissipated; Aladdin knew from recently gained experience that when she sighed and moved her hips restlessly that Jasmine was ready for his fingers. Those he slipped between her thighs with a move so quick she jumped at his touch, then melted against him with a contented moan (the first time he’d touched her this way she had laughed aloud her surprise, as if she had been amused by one of his slight-of-hand tricks). He works with the wetness she has, increasing it, playing with the taut bit of flesh she had shamelessly shown him on their wedding night - Jasmine wasn’t shy, and he loved her for that. He knew now how to bring her to the edge, what orgasm looked like, how it made her skin glow and her lips part. When she stated to spasm for him he noted how painfully hot she was around his fingers, heat he needed to experience again before he perished from longing.

A moment of recovery, while he stroked her sweat-slicked torso and said that he loved her again and again. Then her eyes opened, and she laughed mischievously and reached for the dark, softly-furred place between his legs.

“Jas,” he moaned as she took him into her hand and stroked his hard flesh to a throbbing, turgid solidarity. In the future he’ll be experienced enough to endure her touch, but not now. He pried her clever fingers away from his cock and kissed her palm, pinning her loosely beneath his body as he slipped into place.

And then he entered her, her entire body squeezed him in welcome, her eyes sparkling merrily.

“Want to be on top?” he gasped out.

She shook her head and laughed. “Now.”

He wasn’t going to last, and they were both too naïve to expect hours of pleasure from this night. Instead she clasped him between her legs with her strong thighs and rode him as he rode within her, lips slick and slightly parted, eyes screwed shut. She clutched his shouldered and cried out incoherently, coming again and calling him over the brink with her, making his muscles tense and his body rush into the heat of hers.

Time passed as they breathed together, his head tucked into the lee of her neck, her face buried in his shoulder. Then he got up and brought her a pitcher of water and two bathing silks.

She smiled up at him as he bathed her, lazily stretching under his touch. “Your turn,” she said, when he finished, and rose, glistening, her softly bronzed body glistening in the torches, to return the favor.

She lay drowsing in his arms when he reaches for the rest of his sherbet. He tipped up nothing but liquid.

“I told you it would melt.” She smiled into his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he said, resting the empty dish beside the pile of pillows and taking her into his embrace. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

The double-meaning made her chuckle as she buried her face his shoulder, inhaling the scent of their rosewater bath and his masculine musk as they both drifted off to sleep.


End file.
